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Posted on 14 October 1998

i feel about as creative as a cat on a hot tin roof.
well piss up a rope and call me betsy.

i’ve spent, YET AGAIN, another fruitless evening trying to get this page somewhat contained and running. but i get this bug up my ass on re-doing it, and i spend all fucking night looking at other people’s pages, and not even bother working or bothering about myself.

I’m no damn graphic designer, and yet I can code mean html (I’m one of those people who will use ONLY notepad for coding (sic)). yet I spend half my time, in worthlessness trying to get some decent graphics up.

god, i hate my life.
i’m bored.

i’m frustrated because, back in 1995, when I first started doing some sort of journalling on the web, i was one of the first set of 1000’s that did so. even then, some of the main pages are now gone, but i remember getting accolades about having such a fine mind, and this that and then some. and now, NOW you ask?

Well it seems that every tom, dick and george has their own page. and it’s annoying. and it’s like, one chicky was whining in her journal because her page hits went up to something like 72 hits already in one day. And I wonder if she knew about the fact that every time she reloaded her page (talk to the hand, because the face ain’t listening), she would ring off her counter. and people wonder why I love cookies.

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